Never in Vegas
by J9
Summary: This would never happen in Vegas (Warrick-Sara)


**Title:** Never In Vegas

**Author:** Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing**:  Sara/Warrick

**Feedback:** Makes my day

**Disclaimer:** If it was in the show, it's not mine.

**Archive:** At my site Checkmate () , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

**Notes: **Three drabbles for the LiveJournal CSReports "Out of Town" challenge. 

***

****

**_Declaration of War_**

"What are you doing out here?"

It's a reasonable question Sara knows, because there is no earthly reason for anyone to be outside on a day when the mercury is below zero, when there is feet of snow on the ground, when there's a greater than excellent chance that their flight home to Vegas is going to be cancelled tomorrow. Inside, there is heat and light, convention attendees talking forensics, hotel staff serving dinner; here, there is a blanket of white, broken only by pale grey tree-shadows. 

And there is Warrick, all bundled up, staring at the falling snow as if in wonder, his breath visible as frosty puffs of air. When he turns to her, he shows no signs of being bothered by the cold, not even by the snowflakes on his face, clinging to his long dark eyelashes, and instead of the puzzled look on her face, there is a smile on his that she swears could almost cause a thaw. "It's snowing," he says simply, and then she figures it out.  

"You don't see much snow in Vegas," she allows and he tilts his head in acknowledgement before looking at her strangely, as if something has occurred to him as well. 

"'Bout as much as you see in California?"

It's a challenge, teasingly given, and she replies in kind. "Four years of Harvard winters," she counters, holding up her hands. "Kinda takes the gloss off." 

"True, true." He looks at her a moment longer, then up at the slate-grey sky. "Doesn't look like it's gonna stop."

"We could be spending another day here," she says, and he chuckles. 

"Snowy Lake Placid or hot Las Vegas," he says. "Hard choice."

She laughs at that, a real laugh. "Not for me," she says, turning on her heel. "I'll be inside."

His voice follows her. "You sure you won't stay a while?" 

She doesn't turn. "I'm going in to where it's warm," she calls back, and she's only taken a couple of steps further before a stinging pain on her back has her wheeling around in shock. In that split second, she realises what's happened, but in that same split second, another snowball whizzes through the air, nailing her right on the shoulder. Her eyes meet his and his laughter floats across the air, and she remembers that he went to college on a baseball scholarship, realises he's still got a hell of an aim on him. 

She also realises something else. 

This means war. 

***

**_A Natural Surprise_**

Warrick knows what he's done the instant he throws the first snowball, because he knows Sara, knows her competitive nature, knows that he's just declared war. 

He rationalises that it's hardly the first time that they've been at daggers drawn, over issues a lot more serious than this. He also knows that Sara can take a joke. 

Besides, he thinks when the second snowball hits its target, it's worth it, just for the look on her face. 

She doesn't take it lying down; he'd've been disappointed if she had, and he's already moving before she can throw her first missile; consequently it sails past him, not even close. He laughs, which causes her to redouble her efforts, her second coming closer, her third even wilder, but that's because she was ducking as she threw, trying to avoid his next effort. 

Her shriek of mirthful fear reaches his ears, makes him grin, a grin that only grows when she gives chase, trying to get closer to him before she throws again. It's harder to hit a moving target though, so he zigs and zags, all the while trying to throw more snow in her direction. 

He doesn't give up either. 

Eventually, they are both red-cheeked and breathless, and he manages to get lucky and catch a hold of her coat, so he does what seems like the natural thing, pulls her to him and tries to force the snow he is holding down her neck. Sara, meanwhile, is doing what no doubt is the natural thing to her; struggling, trying to get free of him, knowing what's about to happen. 

She's wrong though, because in her efforts to get away, she slips and loses her footing, falls backwards, and Warrick tries to grab her, to halt her descent. Neither one of them are any match for momentum though, so she lands heavily on the soft snow, with him on top of her, and when he looks at her, he realises how close together their lips are. 

So he does what seems only natural. 

He kisses her. 

Her kissing him back is unexpected, but welcome. 

Her skin is freezing cold against his, as are her lips, but her body is warm against him, her mouth hot against his, and he doesn't want this moment to end. 

When it does, she is looking up at him with smiling lips and smiling eyes, not looking like a woman who's going to haul off and slug him. In fact, she looks very much like a woman who doesn't want this moment to end either. 

He clears his throat, knowing that the next words he says will change their future forever, for good or ill. He needs to take time to come up with the perfect thing; unfortunately for him however, she shivers, and he realises where they are. "We should get you inside," he says, wincing when he realises how that sounds. 

But her smile just grows brighter. "I thought you'd never ask."

***

**_Never In Vegas_**

This would never have happened in Vegas. 

In Vegas, they are just friends, just colleagues. They talk to one another, laugh with one another, eat together, but at the end of the shift, they navigate the neon streets alone, home to their silent apartments and their empty beds and the niggling knowledge that something is missing. 

But here in upstate New York, there is no neon, just the stark grey of the sky and the white of the landscape, growing whiter by the hour as the snow continues to fall. And while Warrick and Sara talk to one another, laugh with one another, eat together, there is no casino noise in the background, no lab machines beeping and whirring, no Greg bouncing in to give them the latest results that they are waiting for. There is just the two of them, no distractions, and neither can fathom how they haven't found out before now how much they have in common. 

They do not repeat their outdoor activities after dinner; instead Sara gets her way, where they find a couple of seats in front of the fire, pull them close together and continue talking. Sara makes herself comfortable, curling her legs underneath her, resting her arm on the back of the chair, her head on her arm, and as the firelight dances golden shadows across her face and her hair, Warrick finds himself unable to take his eyes away from her. 

And as he sits there, staring at her, with want and flame burning in his eyes, Sara can't take her eyes off him either. 

Neither one is sure when exactly their hands find one another, when their fingers become intertwined; only noticing it much later in the night, when the lounge is nearly deserted, when the other convention attendees have all retired for the night, in hopes that they will indeed be able to return home tomorrow as planned. Sara doesn't need much sleep though, is quite content to stay here, like this, with him, and Warrick is just as happy to let her. 

They only leave when the bar staff begin hovering around them with slightly reproving frowns etched on their faces, and when Warrick's arm slips around Sara's waist, it feels perfectly natural to both of them. 

Just like it feels natural when he walks her to her room for her to turn to him, to press her lips to his. 

Just like it feels natural for him to kiss her back, to wrap his arms around her waist as her fingers twist in his hair, to follow her into her room and not look back when he pushes the door behind him. 

It feels right, just like it feels right later when they are lying together in bed, bodies entwined, the heavy comforter trapping their body heat, when her head is on his shoulder and his fingers trace the path of her spine. 

This would never have happened in Vegas. 

But they know it will in future. 


End file.
